


Give It Good

by ZammyShad



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Rimming, t'venan goes kinda feral and z'ahzi goes with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZammyShad/pseuds/ZammyShad
Summary: Z’ahzi had asked, gently. “What do you want of me?” and T’venan, blue eyes wide and searching, replied. “Everything.”
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 15





	Give It Good

“That’s it, Venan. Open me up a little more.”

Z’ahzi moans openly, head thrown back in obvious bliss as the Miqo’te beneath him groans against him, the other’s mouth busy licking him open. They’ve been at this for a while now, long enough for Z’ahzi’s thighs to ache, the muscles there tightening and shaking on every drag of T’venan’s tongue. He was timid, at first, shy as Z’ahzi had his face buried in the pillows of their bed, knees spread to show off the round curve of his ass, his cock lying heavy between his legs. T’venan had paused, then, ears slightly flattening against his head as his hands hovered, uncertainly, at the jut of his hips.

Z’ahzi had asked, gently. “What do you want of me?” and T’venan, blue eyes wide and searching, replied. “Everything.”

It didn’t take much after that for Z’ahzi to take the reins.

“ _Fingers,_ fuck, I need your fingers.”

His cock curves against his abdomen, hot and hard and dripping with pre. With every dip of the other’s tongue inside him, he jolts against it, lips parting to gasp around a noise he would have otherwise choked down. T’venan likes it, likes giving him what he wants, what he _needs,_ and Z’ahzi is too focused on leading him that he doesn’t notice the frantic movements of the other’s jaw, doesn’t seem to care when the hands on his ass squeeze until nails score crescent moons across his skin, forgoing his command.

“Vena _-a-a-a-_ an,” Z’ahzi whines, tail thrashing behind him as his back arches, one of his own hands going to pull at his disheveled hair, no longer pulled up in its normal fashion. He feels molten from the inside out, like his blood had been exchanged for the lava in the Ruby Sea, body stringing ever closer to the edge of his orgasm but not quite there, still urging to be filled properly. T’venan doesn’t seem to care, no longer listening to him. Instead, he pulls him down onto his jaw harder, trying to get deeper inside him with a pointed tongue. It’s _good,_ warm and wet and full of a hunger he hasn’t shown since they started, but it’s not enough and Z’ahzi _swore_ to be the one in charge.

“Sugar,” he starts, slurring as he chances a look over his shoulder, the hand previously pulling at his own hair now falling to the Miqo’te’s beneath him. “You gonna listen to me or keep eating me out?” A pause, eyes falling closed as a growl erupts from behind him. “Like the _degenerate_ you are.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s forced to the side, spit and slick coating his hole and catching the chilled air of their room. A groan leaves his dry lips in shock, back flush against the softened sheets as T’venan all but towers over him between his legs, his hands grasping Z’ahzi’s ankles and pulling him closer, nearly into his lap.

The display of strength stirs something inside him, Z’ahzi’s cock jumping at the feeling. “Venan?” he asks, voice smaller and far less confident than before. Yet the only response he gets is the other’s lips at the shell of his ear, body stretching across him as he all but purrs a devastating, raspy sentence. “You’re not in control anymore.”

Z’ahzi shudders, pinpricks of arousal spiking down his spine and settling heavy in his abdomen. Oh, fuck. _Fuck._ In a flash, T’venan’s hand circles around his throat, the other grasping his cock and guiding it to press teasingly against his entrance. The blonde spasms helplessly, moaning out a guttural _please_ as the blunt head of his lover’s cock presses just-so, stretching him open and starting that all-too familiar burn and ache of finally, _finally_ being fucked. It’s been so long, his own cock hard and aching and wet, reddened with his want and endless denial of more. He shakes apart as T’venan thrusts forward, the catch and drag of him inside him only lasting a second before another round of heat crashes against him, hands going white-knuckled in the sheets.

 _There,_ he thinks, looking through half-lidded eyes at the other before tilting his head back, submitting to the demanding hand at his throat, the fierce eyes that stare back at him, wanting. _Make me yours._

T’venan moves again, no hesitation in the roll of his hips, pulling out only to slam back in and snarl at the resounding slap of skin against skin. There’s something feral about him like this, something otherworldly as sweat-slicked skin slides against each other, the lowlight of their room making his eyes, his tattoos, stand out almost ethereal like.

“What did I say, Kitten?” Oh, gods, Z’ahzi whines at that, the sound breaking and dying off as the grip around his throat tightens, squeezes insistently with each of his thrusts. “I make the rules now.”

 _Yes,_ Z’ahzi thinks, unable to wheeze through the punishing pace of his thrusts coupled with the pressure on his neck. T’venan smirks, brows falling as he focuses on the angle of his hips, aiming for the spot from earlier. Z’ahzi wants it too, craves it, edges closer to the knife’s edge with every semi-brush of the other’s cock against it. But it’s not _Z’ahzi_ who gets to ask for more, it’s not _Z’ahzi_ who gets to decide when and how. It all belongs to T’venan: his moans, his body, his pleasure.

When he finally presses against it, the head of his cock unashamed as it rams forward, Z’ahzi feels the sheets tear beside him, grip causing knuckles to creak. White hot pleasure bursts inside him, thighs tensing as his toes curl. Without a second thought, he wraps them around T’venan’s waist, squirming in his grasp as his back arches, hips angling for more. T’venan growls again, rough and animalistic, and rears back from him, licking his lips once before once again thrusting forwards, this time unrelenting, not even for a moment.

He can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t keep his eyes open. Z’ahzi feels burned alive, purely made for the other man to use, to give pleasure to. His tongue sticks heavy to the bottom of his mouth, throat dry and raw and cracked through the punched out, barely-there moans, whines. There’s nothing left of him, nothing but a ball of liquid heat that flows from his chest down, down, down. To his stomach, his thighs, to his arms, his fingers. Everything feels too hot, too much, and the tight coil of his abdomen begins to unwind, the edge of his orgasm dancing in his peripheral. Close, closer still. All it takes is a bit more and he’ll come. _Make me come,_ he thinks, one of his hands breaking free from the remnants of the sheet to wrap around his lover’s wrist, bruising and tight as he nears his peak. _Please._

T’venan takes the chance to use his free hand to playfully, teasingly, _cruelly_ curl around the base of his aching cock, cutting off that unwinding coil of heat and crashing Z’ahzi back into his body, painfully aware of every shaking, trembling, stuttering part of his person.

And the drooling, sticky mess he’s made between them, precum staining their skin and clinging to the dusting of fur and hair T’venan wears so well. 

The noise he makes is pitiful, pitched and breathy and broken the longer it goes on. All of that build-up, all of that all-consuming heat that had threatened to overtake him suddenly, horribly gone. T’venan laughs, a chuckle that’s half huffed and half groaned as he lets his cock drag inside him, Z’ahzi’s walls clenching around it, unwilling to let go. A sharp thrust forward strikes through his core, the snap of the other’s hip ending with them flush against his skin, sinking back inside for only a moment before he’s pulling out again. T’venan’s merciless, taking his time to rear back only to jolt Z’ahzi against the sheets as if he weighed nothing in comparison.

“Look at you,” T’venan starts, letting go of the blonde’s cock and digging sharpened claws into his hip, still taking his time to milk the dripping precum that feels like it won’t ever stop. “So wet for me, leaking all over yourself like the bitch in heat you are.”

Oh. _Oh._

A snarl, the pace growing again, steady as Z’ahzi feels the same fire from before build again, quicker and heavier. “My words alone could get you to come. So easy for a slut like you, for a whore made for my cock. You need it so bad, need me to fill you up until you can’t hold it anymore. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Stuffed full of my cum, rolling your hips onto my cock to try and keep it all inside you.”

 _Fuck,_ Z’ahzi thinks, that tight coil sneaking up on him, cock jumping as he gasps out soft, cracking ah, ah, ah, ah’s. T’venan has a mouth on him, something he hadn’t expected. Worst of all, he’s right. Z’ahzi would do anything to be kept in this bed, pinned beneath the other and fucked into over and over again until his skin went raw, thighs aching and head full of a hazy syrup-like pleasure he can only ever get like this. How many times could T’venan come inside him? How many times would he deny him his orgasm, used for nothing but the Miqo’te’s own pleasure - a cocksleeve made for him and him alone.

He wants it. Gods above, he wants it so _bad._

The pace of the other’s hips returns to the punishing, brutal touch from before, though his thrusts stutter on every third. Z’ahzi can feel it, feel T’venan’s desperation as he continues to growl, feeling the vibrations of his noises through where they connect, skin prickling. He wants to beg, wants to choke out a _please, come inside me._ But he knows he can’t, knows when he breathes in through the little room T’venan lets him have against the bruising touch to his throat he can barely get out a wheeze; a hidden cry for _more, gods, more._

It’s too much, his body strung too tight. Z’ahzi feels like he’s floating, yet he’s hyper aware of every sensation currently fluttering through his body. The lava from before feels more akin to the way aether strikes at him, his sensitivity escalating it. He blames T’venan’s tattoos, wondering briefly if they could hold residual aether from his transformations, his spells, and that’s why he feels so raw and open, on the edge of another orgasm already and unable to do anything but close his eyes and submit, pushing back against the other’s cock in a silent plea.

“Come for me.” T’venan commands, fully cutting off his oxygen as he pushes all his weight against his throat. “Come for me so I can breed your ass full of my own.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ One thrust, two, three, and Z’ahzi’s finally tipping over, his dripping cock spurting long lines of cum across his abdomen, his chest. It doesn’t stop, and neither does T’venan, pressing insistently against his prostate and milking every last drop from his throbbing cock. His walls clench involuntarily around the other Miqo’te, spasming with greedy intent to do the same to him, to get T’venan as deep inside him as possible before he marks him from the inside out, fills him to bursting with his seed and, and -

Z’ahzi feels dizzy, feels on the cusp of passing out, before T’venan finally follows behind him, body stilling atop him as he comes. Just like his own, T’venan doesn’t stop, cock pulsing inside him every few seconds, making good on his word. The hand around the other’s wrist falls limp and to Z’ahzi’s side, legs previously clenched around T’venan’s waist also falling to the ruined sheets. Nothing feels present, consciousness wavering as he valiantly tries to take stock of his own body. Every feeling, every prickle of hair or rub of skin is heightened, too much for him to handle yet felt as if far away, growing in distance and intensity regardless. His head rolls, the curtain of hair behind him sticky with sweat, and Z’ahzi thinks that he wouldn’t mind being a whore for T’venan to use like this again.

The hand around his throat lifts and Z’ahzi’s lungs burn, dry throat wheezing small gasps of air through chapped lips. His chest stutters at the influx of oxygen, cock weakly giving another jolt or two to wring out the last few drops of his cum, before laying still against his abdomen. He feels sluggish and, when Z’ahzi’s eyes finally reopen again, notices the way his overly-sensitive skin jumps at T’venan’s touch, his fingers scraping through the mess between them and rubbing the sticky substance into him, marking him both inside and out.

“Venan,” he breathes, voice gravel-like and ruined. 

“Ssh,” his lover replies, gingerly pulling out and cooing at the pained whimper Z’ahzi makes. “Let me get you some water. You’ll need it.”

The unsaid _for what’s next_ hangs between them and Z’ahzi, still recovering from the haze of bliss that curls around his mind, chuckles breathlessly, sighing. 

It’s gonna be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! this was a 'ych' for a friend of mine on twitter! i have a few more of these to finish/post, so be on the lookout for our favourite warrior of light to get some good loving!
> 
> if you enjoyed this piece, you can find more of xiv rambles and/or my work on my twitter @valistheas
> 
> if you'd like to support my work, you can do so with my tip-jar located on my twitter in the first reply to my pinned tweet! 
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! and i hope you lovelies have a wonderful day! thank you!


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